Empire
by Panzermarine
Summary: This is my version of what might happen in Empire, the third book in the Inheritance Trilogy. Please read and review. Note that this rated T for Teen, and has violence in later chapters. This is my first fanfic, so don't expect a masterpiece.
1. Aftermath

This is my version of what will happen in the final book in the Inheritance trilogy.

This is my first story, so expect it to be bad.

Please don't flame, I would prefer constructive criticism.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Eragon. Duh.

**Empire**

Eragon walked the dry, flat Burning Plains, examining the carnage from the battle that had occurred only a day before. The smell of rotting corpses already hung in the air, and unbearable heat scorched the survivors.

He entered the simple, tan tent that he knew belonged to Nasuada, the newly appointed leader of the Varden, and stepped in. Nasuada was talking to Trianna, the sorceress who was head of Du Vrangr Gata, the Varden's magic users.

"Ah, greetings, Shadeslayer," Nasuada acknowledged Eragon before continuing her conversation.

Eragon sat down by the two women and waited silently for them to finish speaking. He caught most of what they were saying, and, strangely, they seemed to be talking about lace. After a short while, Trianna left, and Nasuada turned her attention to Eragon.

"Yes?"

"Ah yes, milady, I was meaning to ask you something. Well, first off, I must be leaving soon. I have three different promises and I need to fulfill each one. The dwarves are burying Hrothgar tomorrow, so once I cure Elva, I need to attend. I also need to help my cousin kill the Ra'zac to rescue his bride-to-be. After that, I will need to travel back to the elves to complete my training and-"

"I know. Please skip to the questions. It's okay if you have to leave. The Imperials won't attack again for a while, seeing as how they took a solid beating already, so it is not required for you to stay."

"Right. Well, I was wondering about our numbers. How many casualties were there?"

"All told, 722 Varden and dwarves killed, 1,004 wounded. The urgals lost five, with all the others wounded, and as far as we know, the Empire has 29,462 dead, and 16 captured. We don't know how many wounded."

Eragon was shocked by the numbers, especially the one for the Empire. "We killed that many Imperials?"

"Yes. Angela did about a quarter of that with poison, and that ship with the flaming javelins did quite a bit, too. Plus, you killed a lot, and the Burning Plains and everybody else did the rest. It's shocking, if you consider the fact that we were fighting out in the open against that army. We were lucky that they didn't surround us."

"Yes, alright. I see. Well, farewell, Lady Nasuada."

Eragon left the tent to find Saphira. He spotted her gathering the bodies of the dead. Eragon ran to and greeted her

_There you are, Little One. Where have you been?_

_I spoke with Nasuada. You will not believe how many casualties the Empire took._

_This is a grim matter to be speaking of. How many?_

_Close to 30,000!_

"Hey, Eragon!" Eragon's cousin yelled as he began running to him and Saphira.

"Hail, brother!" The two had become like brothers over the years, and still were.

"I was just wondering, you know, about Katrina. So when will we leave to rescue her? A couple of days?"

Eragon had been meaning to tell his cousin that he needed to attend the Hrothgar's funeral before they left, and decided this was the best time to do so. "We should be able to leave within the week. I do need to attend the funeral of the dwarf king and hear the announcement of their new ruler"

"Wait. What funeral? When did this come up?"

"Well, during the battle King Hrothgar was killed by...your other cousin. You-know-who. Anyway, I do have to attend his funeral. I knew him, he was a good person, and since I have been made and honorary dwarf-"

"Wha-?"

"Don't stare. Yes, I've been made an honorary dwarf. It is and honor, by the way. Anyway, it would simply be unacceptable to not attend. Please understand. Besides, we will be out of here within a week anyway, and then we can rescue Katrina."

"All right. I see you've changed in more ways than one. I guess I can't argue with that. But could you please scry her again?"

"All right, I need a pool of-"

"Shadeslayer!"

Eragon spun around to see Jarsha, a boy he had met months ago, running up to him

"Sir, sir! Lady Nasuada needs you!"

So? What do you think? Love it? Hate it? Despise it?

Well, please read and review!


	2. Curing Elva

Thanks for the positive feedback on my first chapter.

I will be updating pretty much every day, so I should finish pretty soon.

Again, please review!

Disclaimer: I don't Eragon.

"What is it?"

"I don't know, but she says that something strange has happened. She didn't tell me much, only that you should come if you're not doing anything important."

"Alright. I'll be there. Thanks, Jarsha. Roran, we'll have to scry Katrina later."

Eragon bent down and extracted several crowns from the body of a dead Imperial, then handed them all to Jarsha before heading to Nasuada's tent. Meanwhile, Roran started feverishly searching the other bodies for more money.

"You called, Lady Nasuada?" Eragon asked as he entered the leader of the Varden's tent.

"Yes. We've just received a report from a scout that disturbs me greatly. You remember when I told you about Imperial casualties?"

"Yes, milady, 30.000 dead. Why?"

"According to our reports, the army is now encamped a couple of leagues away. The scout followed them from the moment they retreated, and knows that not a single person left the army while they marched, and yet after observing both their ranks and their encampment, he knows that there were no more than ten thousand men in the Imperial army."

"So you're saying that you're curious as to how so many men simply disappeared without a trace?"

"Yes. I was wondering if you might possibly have an explanation?"

"Well-"

"You called?" Arya entered the tent and saluted Nasuada.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin."

Arya did not look at all surprised to see Eragon in the tent as well as she replied, "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr."

"Un du evarínya ono varda."

Eragon then continued explaining what he thought might have happened. "Well, first, do you trust these reports?"

"Completely. Oh, and Arya, please sit until I am ready to converse with you." Arya complied and sat.

"If you trust them, then perhaps the reports were falsified by Imperials and the scout may still be out there, or is a prisoner, or is dead."

"Why would the Empire do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe to confuse us?"

"That still makes no sense."

"Maybe the scout was fooled by magic?"

"That still makes no sense. Why would the Empire do that?"

"I have no idea. I'm making this up as I go, after all."

"Alright, well, you're dismissed. Hopefully this mystery will explain itself in due time. Just as a reminder, King Hrothgar will have his funeral soon, you better get ready soon. I recommend you where the armor he gave you as a show of respect."

"Right. Thank you."

Eragon left the tent to find Saphira standing outside, apparently waiting for him.

_Visiting Nasuada's tent again, Little One? If I didn't know better, I would say there was something going on..._

_Hey!_ Eragon said with indignance.

_Just kidding, just kidding. I was looking for you, by the way. Angela wanted to know where you were. You still need to cure Elva, after all, and you haven't got much time before Hrothgar's funeral. _

_Right, I'll get to that. Thanks, Saphira. _

Eragon easily found the large, colorful tent that belonged to Angela the Healer, and also the place where Elva was staying.

Eragon went in, and noticed a foul smell that seemed to come from a small, black cauldron that issued green steam, which Angela had when Eragon came in.

"Don't ask." Angela stood by and stirred the pot, which Eragon could see had some kind of yellow liquid in it, and turned to greet him.

"Well, what is it? If you want help with suicide, I just gathered a new type of mushroom which makes anyone who eats it explode. If you want your fortune read, tough, and if you want to learn how to speak another language, I happen to know 42."

"Um...I was just looking for Elva. Is she here?"

"Yes, I am." Elva seemed to appear out of nowhere, and Eragon almost jumped.

"Hey, Elva. Listen, I was here to undo your curse, and since I do need to get going to Hrothgar's funeral, now would be the only time to do it. Alright?"

"Very well. Thank you for keeping your promise, Eragon Shadeslayer. I am ready."

Elva stood and closed her eyes. Eragon took a deep breath and quickly assembled a spell to lift the girl's curse.

"Sé ono letta waíse skölir fra rauthr"

Elva's figure was suddenly surrounded by light, which consumed her body and made her too bright to look at. The light did not subside for several seconds, and Eragon had to shield his face from being blinded. Finally, it stopped. Eragon lifted his arm to see the spells's result. In Elva's place was a baby, who Eragon recognized as the same baby he'd cursed back when he was in Tronjheim. He smiled at Angela, who glowed with happiness, and left the tent.

Well, there's chapter two. Please review.

Thanks again for all the positive feedback on chapter one.


	3. The Day Before Tomorrow

Thanks again for the positive reviews.

This chapter won't be longer, but the next one will be.

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Eragon is Paolini's.

_Finally._

Eragon breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped out into the blazing hot afternoon sun. It was finally time to leave this hellhole, as he had cured Elva and had attended to all business he needed to.

_Saphira! _Eragon searched the Burning Plains for Saphira, and quickly spotted her enormous form as she snacked on a deer.

_Hm? Yes, Eragon?_

_Are you ready to leave yet? We won't be coming back. And where did you get that deer? _

_I didn't bring anything and I'm not taking anything. As for the deer, I fly fast and hunt faster. You do the math._

_Well, come on. Hrothgar's funeral starts soon. We have to find Roran. _

_Your nest mate? He's still stripping corpses. You should see how much money he's got. Imperials get paid a lot._

"Hey! Roran!" Eragon spotted his cousin with a huge sack bulging with crowns, emptying the pockets of a dead Imperial paymaster.

"Hello there, Mr. Poor and Needy. What might a poor man be doing talking to one so rich?" Roran shook the sack, and coins jingled inside.

Eragon shook his head. "Like I said earlier, Hrothgar has a funeral coming up. I have to go, and I won't be coming back, so you're going to have to go with me."

"Really? Well I suppose a noblemen like myself could spare some time to go to the funeral of a king."

"Stop that Roran. If I were you, I would donate that entire bag of money to the Varden. They need it more than you do."

"Oh, fine. Poor man."

"I heard that!"

The two cousins poked fun at each other all the way to their tent.

_You look absolutely royal, Little One._ Saphira said.

Eragon was suited up in his dwarven armor, which shone like a beacon under the sun.

_Same to you. _Saphira, with the help of Eragon, had put on the dwarven dragon armor that was also a gift from Hrothgar. Not only did both look like they were Alagaesia's elite upper class, but both were ready to fight a war.

_And your nest mate was looking pretty good too._

As if on cue, Roran emerged from the tent, wearing a black elven tunic with with silver cloth wiven in intricate designs, a vine, blossoms, and in the center, a sparrow on a branch.

"Nice! Very nice! You should wear that to your wedding with Katrina!"

"I can have it?"

"I never said that. But you can borrow it when you get married."

The three walked toward a large group of soldiers, mostly dwarves, as well as several Feldûnost, who had gotten together to say a few last words over King Hrothgar's body before beginning the one-day trip by Feldûnost to Farthen Dûr, where Hrothgar would be buried next to the previous dwarf king.

"Hail, Orik!" A dwarf who stood at the edge of the gathering turned and waved. Eragon noticed that his eyes were slightly red and puffy, he had probably been mourning earlier.

"There you are, Eragon. And greetings to you, too, cousin of Eragon, and of course to you as well, Brightscales. We were just about to begin."

"Oh, you must be Orik. Eragon mentioned you a couple of times. So you're going to be the new dwarven king?"

"Perhaps, although I doubt it. However, I am Hrothgar's nephew, though not by blood, and I might be his heir. His official replacement will be announced after the funeral, so we won't know for a week."

_But who else would it be?_ Saphira asked.

"Well their are plenty of dwarves in Tronjheim. Again, until Hrothgar's will is read, we won't know."

"Attention, all!" An old dwarf with a long, white beard yelled.

"We gather here today to remember King Hrothgar, a fellow warrior killed by a coward with magic. He may be gone now, but while he lived he was a great king, leader, and soldier, who was liked and appreciated by all as a great king!"

"Here, here!" the dwarves gathered there shouted.

"Now, we begin the journey to the tombs of our fathers and previous kings, to bury our king with honor. As a show of respect, Dûrmgrist Feldûnost has lent us some of there best, fastest, toughest animals to take us to Tronjheim. We will take the Sacred Path, a perfectly straight tunnel right to the tombs. Our journey home begins now."

The dwarf mounted a Feldûnost and began riding, and the others did the same. ERagon, Roran, and Orik all mounted the same mount and followed, directly behind the dwarves carrying the casket with Hrothgar's body, and right in front of Saphira, who took the column's end.

The long, solemn row of mourners then east, the blazing sun and the Burning Plains behind them, and the monstrous Beors, only a speck in the distance, straight ahead.

And their is Chapter 3.

Please review.

The next chapter will be longer, and hopefully exceed 1,000 words.


	4. A Funeral Surprise

Here's Chapter 4. As usual, please review.

This chapter will be longer than the others.

Disclaimer: As always, Eragon belongs to Mr. Christopher Paolini.

The long line of dwarves and their mounts quickly and speedily moved along the Surdan border, as the incredibly tough, sturdy, and fast Feldûnost ran over leagues and leagues of hard, baked ground under the hot, late afternoon sun.

"So who was the dwarf, the one that gave that speech for Hrothgar?" Eragon asked.

"He was Uriah, a close friend of Hrothgar's in his early years. They fought in the Red Dawn campaign together." Orik replied.

"The what?"

Saphira answered that instead of Orik. _The Red Dawn Campaign was the response to an attack on the dwarves from urgals, which happened about 200 years ago. In the night, about 30 years before it happened, a large party of dwarves came upon a cave full of urgal warriors, women, and children, then killed everyone in the cave except one child, who grew up to be a kull named Nar Werghar, who then in turn made sure to kill one dwarf warrior, one dwarf woman, and one dwarf child for every single one killed that day. So, the dwarves gathered a band of over a thousand warriors and, in broad daylight, they attacked a huge urgal camp, which contained nearly the entire urgal army. While the dwarves eventually took hundreds of casualties and all the surviving dwarves were captured, the urgal army was crippled by the attack, and didn't openly engage the dwarves in battle for several decades._

_I see._

Eragonleaned to the left so he could examine the line. Apart from themselves, everyone was a dwarf, although there were a very small number of mourners in the line, numbering no more than one hundred, which puzzled Eragon.

"Hey Orik, why are there no humans and so few dwarves to mourn Orik?"

"The only ones allowed to attend the funeral of a dwarven king are members of the king's clan and their blood. Eragon is a member of Dûrmgrist Ingietum, and Roran and Saphira are your blood."

"Oh. I see."

The Beor Mountains, a distant line of small dots on the horizon, began to grow slightly bigger and bigger as the day wore on, and by nightfall, the party reached its foot. There, Uriah, the old dwarf who had been Hrothgar's friend, halted them and spoke, while at the same time opening a huge door large enough to fit a dragon. "Now we enter sacred ground. Be silent, for none are to speak inside this hall."

He then entered the Sacred Tunnel, and the rest of the line followed suit. Eragon made sure to keep quiet as his mount trotted in.

The tunnel was perfectly straight, and dimly lit by rows of tall, man-sized candles that burned without actually burning wax. It was a solemn, quiet place, and Eragon wouldn't have spoken if he had been allowed to.

Every ten yards or so, a painting, almost lifelike though clearly not a fairth, was hung above the candles, depicting different dwarf kings and warriors.

While Eragon didn't dare speak for fear of disrespecting Hrothgar, he began to wonder where this tunnel might lead. It probably either led directly to the tombs or to Tronjheim's gate.

It was not long before he had the chance to find out. He guessed it was around midnight, though he was not sure, when he could first see the tunnel's end. It looked like it led out into open air, but he couldn't truly tell from his distance.

Within the next few minutes, Uriah reached the exit, and not too long after, Eragon, Roran, Orik, and Saphira reached the exit as well. The exit did lead to open air, and many stars, shining bright overhead, provided the only light other than the faint, sliver of a crescent moon that shown down.

"We reach the final part of our journey. Now, dismount your Feldûnost, we must complete the final part of the journey on foot."

Everyone followed this order, and formed another column, while the Feldûnost left, most likely headed for Tarnag, where they could reunite with their owners.

The mourners followed Uriah as he led them towards Farthen Dûr, and many of them lit small torches, which cast light onto the ground and illuminated the path. Eragon, looking around, vaguely remembered it as the foot of the mountains that he had once traveled to before, when he was rushing Arya to the Varden for aid. He remembered killing urgals as he charged into the lake, then being choked by the water before meeting Orik, who saved his life and let him inside the mountains.

The party proceeded around to the waterfall, and Eragon remembered futilely banging a rock on the very cliff they now stood by. Uriah stood by the cliff face and touched a particular place on the cliff, and two huge doors, thirty feet high started to open.

As the doors opened, he stepped inside.

There was a quick, nearly inaudible whistle.

Uriah's body tumbled backwards, filled with arrows. Suddenly, arrows flew out of the entryway to the mountain, slaughtering dwarves as they ate through their ranks.

"Stop! We're friendlies! Dwarves! Humans!" Orik yelled. The arrows stopped. Only five mourners remained, not counting Saphira. A figure stepped out of the shadowy entrance.

The figure wasn't a dwarf. An Imperial Sergeant and a twenty-man squad of archers stepped out in the open.

Eragon's mouth fell open in shock for a second. Then he grabbed a sword he had gotten from a dead soldier out of Zar'roc's old sheath, not bothering to question the situation, while Saphira, who had been standing next to Eragon, flew into the air and prepared to incinerate the Imperials.

"Stop, fool! We will kill you! Back up or every single one of you dies!"

Eragon didn't stop.

"Stop! We will kill dwarven citizens!"

Eragon stopped dead in his tracks. "You mean..."

"We have taken over the city!" The Imperial Sergeant smiled. "We have demands! You will leave, now! We will voice our demands at a later time! Right now, you will leave! You will report this back to your leader! And you will tell her that for every hour our demands are not met, one dwarven citizen will be tortured until death! Now go!"

The sergeant stabbed two dwarves right through the chest, and then he and his men slowly backed into Farten Dûr and closed the gates. The only survivors of the incident were Saphira, Roran, Orik, and Eragon, who all stared dumbfounded at the dead bodies lying around them.

_What happened? _Saphira voiced everyone's thoughts with that one statement.

She rose into the sky, picking up Hrothgar's casket, and, with nothing else to do, flew back to the hellish Burning Plains.

So what happened? Next chapter should be up Saturday.

Sorry, this one wasn't exactly longer, although it broke 1,000 words.

Please review. What did you think of the ending, in particular?


	5. Tronjheim

It's been a long time since the last one.

Disclaimer: I really don't think I need to write this. So here – In this and the rest of the chapters, I don't own Eragon.

Nasuada ground her teeth as she was forced to hear the screams of a dwarven child being slowly tortured to death. Standing on top of the makeshift wooden wall that had been constructed was a smiling Imperial soldier.

It had been a week since the beginning of the Battle of the Burning Plains. In that week, the situation had gone from bad, to better, to worse. The elves had taken Gilead with no resistance, and sent huge quantities of food, water, and weapons to the Varden. Eragon, Roran, and Saphira had come back from Hrothgar's burial with his casket. They had rushed through a brief explanation of why before dragging Nasuada off to Tronjheim. So now she was here, talking to an Imperial while the setting sun beat at her back.

"Welcome, Lady Nasuada, to Tronjheim. As you can see, it has been taken by the Empire. I trust you like what we've done to the place. Just look at our wall!"

Saphira, who had been standing next to Nasuada, roared, fierce and feral, and knocked the soldier down. Roran and Eragon sat on top of her, while Orik stood next to her. They were flanked by a hundred or so Varden and dwarves, the rest had remained in Surda.

The soldier got up, his helmet dented, and said, "Anyway, you know our demands. One dwarven citizen will be tortured to death for every our the rider and the dragon are not in our hands. If you attempt to take back the citizens by force, we will execute every single one of them."

He turned and walked back inside the mountain.

Nasuada turned away from him. She faced Eragon, looking haggard and weary with her messy, unkempt hair.

"Eragon. We have to speak, privately. Please come with me."

She walked to a small, isolated corner near the edge of the lake.

"I think I should thank you for taking me here. I would, too, but all this does is hurt the situation. I don't feel that I am responsible enough to tell you to give yourself up to the Empire or not, so you'll have to make that decision yourself. I know that this will require hard thought, but you must think fast. The soldiers will kill-"

"I know, I know." Eragon cut in. "Please let me think in peace."

"Fine. Think carefully, though, the lives of hundreds of innocent dwarves lie at your feet."

She walked away, back to the small camp that had been set up in front of the mountain.

Eragon allowed himself to fall into the reeds and grasses by the lake, where he lay and thought.

The full force of what he had to decide on hit him in that one, single moment.

He had to either let hundreds, if not thousands of people die in painful, cruel ways, living their last moments in fear, or give himself up to the Empire. If he did that, the only ways he could avoid being taken to Galbatorix were suicide or escape, the second of which was impossible.

He couldn't think clearly about it, all he could think about were the dwarves in the mountain.

Eragon pictured an old dwarf woman, huddled against a cold, stone wall, hugging a baby to her bosom. They were in a dark, dirty room along with many hundreds of other dwarves.

Two armed Imperial soldiers slipped in, pushing aside the small figures of dwarves who shivered with cold fear. The woman stared at the soldiers; eyes wide open with anxiety, praying that they did not take her. The Imperials walked right up to her, cruelly smiled at her, and pointed at the baby.

They took the newly born dwarf away from her even as she pleaded with them not too, all in vain. She could only weep as the soldiers took her child, her beautiful young child she had loved so much, carried her to the top of Tronjheim, and slowly roasted her.

Eragon found himself crying uncontrollably as he got up off the ground and walked back to the camp. He did not care that he felt weak and vulnerable. He did not care about the fact that he was in full view of the Varden. All he cared about was that dwarf women, real or not.

He stepped into the tan, sand colored tent that Roran and he shared and noticed him sitting inside, apparently waiting for him.

"You okay?"

Eragon could not reply with words. He shook his head quickly. He knew he needed some rest.

Roran had the respect and care for his cousin to leave him be. Saphira did not.

_Eragon! What are you doing? You're going to sleep while dwarves, innocent dwarves who have never done anything to the Empire, are going to be tortured? Shame that you call yourself a Rider! You must help the dwarves!_

He didn't say anything for a moment. Then:

_Please, Saphira, I don't want to argue with you. You know how I'm feeling, I just can't think straight. I need rest to clear up my head, then I'll think._

_Don't you realize that while you're taking you're little rest, dwarves are being killed? _

_Yes, I know, but what do you want me to do about it? Give myself up or-_

_Get inside and rescue those dwarves! You can do it! You are a Rider!_

Eragon had considered the possibility of a quick extraction of the hostages, but he knew it was impossible.

_They have security in that place you know! I can't just stroll in, take the prisoners, and stroll out!_

_Then use stealth! The dwarves know this mountain inside out; get Orik or someone to help you! You can't just sit here while dwarves get burned, stabbed, tortured, and killed right in front of you! Help them!_

_Look, Saphira, I'll consider it , but right now I just can't think straight, okay! Give me a break and then we'll talk about it._

_Eragon, if you rest now-_

_Saphira! Listen! I can't think straight right now, I have to sleep! Give me time to clear up my head and I will talk about what to do next, okay!_

Through their mental connection, Eragon could tell that Saphira was calming and taking breaths.

_Okay, fine. Rest for the night, Little One, and we'll talk in the morning._

_That's all I ask. Good night._

Roran looked up from his bed.

"Were you just having an argument with your dragon?"

Eragon nodded. "Her name's Saphira, remember that. And how'd you know, anyway?"

"You kept making these weird faces like you were constipated or something."

Eragon glared at him. Then he settled down to sleep.

That last line Roran said was lame and not funny, I know.

I just felt like giving him _something _to say after talking to Saphira.

Anyway, I feel like I dodged a bullet with this chapter.

I kept trying to write a scene where Eragon goes back to the Burning Plains.

After many rewrites that didn't work, I gave up.

Please read and review as always.


	6. The Rescue

Thanks for the feedback, everyone.

_Eragon was scrambling up the side of a steep mountain, slipping and occasionally falling and sliding down, but he kept going anyway. Behind him, dwarves were also climbing, armed with bows and knives. Finally, Eragon reached the top. Looking the hole into Farthen Dûr, he saw huge masses of dwarves, every one of them bound by ropes of thorns. Silently, he dropped down into the mountain..._

Eragon woke from the dream with a strong-willed determination to rescue the dwarves within the mountain.

"I have an idea." Eragon had entered Nasuada's tent with a proposal.

"And?"

"I will lead a party of dwarves into Farthen Dûr to rescue the prisoners by night."

Nasuada stared at him. "No." She said firmly. "I can't risk you being captured. And if you fail, every single dwarf in the mountain dies."

"I know. But I am confident in my abilities. I have seen the defenses within Farthen Dûr in my dreams; and they can be easily taken out by a stealthy group of soldiers

'Tell me what you plan to do, Eragon, and I will-"

"I will take a band of dwarven archers to the top of the mountain. They will kill any defenders. I will then lift the captives out by ladder. Simple, but it should work."

"Are you sure you know the Imperial defenses perfectly?"

"No, but I'll bring along a group of archers, who I'm sure can overcome any number of Imperials. I did have a dream where I saw the inside of the mountain and saw the defenses, and these dreams are usually accurate."

"And what if the Imperials discover that there prisoners have been taken back?"

"They will attack. Hmmm. Retreat your troops tonight as we rescue these prisoners. I will follow."

"You want us to pull back with no idea if you succeed or not?"

Making his plan up as he went, Eragon said, "Arya can stay with you and communicate with me."

He expected her to object, so he was surprised to hear Nasuada say, "Yes, fine, that'll work."

"Good. Now, just out of curiosity, why did you agree to that?"

"Well, to tell the truth, I don't have a better idea, but also because if you're going to be my successor I have to start respecting your ideas."

Eragon smiled and began making preparations.

He knew he would have to take Orik and every other dwarf with any archery skills, and had forced Roran to come after the latter had extracted a promise from his cousin that they would go to Helgrind for Katrina right after. He also knew he had to take Saphira, who would fly dwarf prisoners out of Tronjheim while the rest of the prisoners would take the ladder the rescuers would bring.

The Varden spent the rest of the day secretly getting ready to move, packing up supplies but taking down only a few tents here and there.

From the mountain, it looked like business as usual, as there were cookpots with hot soup boiling away, Varden soldiers laughing – and the ever present horrors from inside.

As Eragon treated his sword with his whetstone, he realized that he had not even noticed the last few dwarves being tortured. The thought that he had been completely unconcerned while dwarves, real living things, were in pain and dying, was hard for him to bear.

In a perverted way, he was almost glad to hear a dwarf man screaming in pain as he was run through. A moment later he almost threw up at the thought that he enjoyed it.

"Are you ready?"

Nasuada, Arya, Orik, Roran, Saphira, and many dwarves all asked him this. Eragon wasn't, but he answered with a yes.

To occupy his thoughts from the dread at the back of his head, he worked on the ladder. He knew he would have to make it in collapsible parts because it would be too big to hold in one piece. However, a couple of dwarves with carpentry skills were able to handle most of the work, so Eragon had to stare at the mountain he was about to raid for most of the time.

Finally, the night came.

Slowly but surely, the Varden began to move, something that went relatively unnoticed by the Imperials.

Eragon and his rescue party gathered themselves at the base of the mountain. Eragon quickly outlined what the plan was – they would run up the side of the mountain, the archers would kill any guards stationed near the prisoners, then the ladder would be set up and Saphira would fly prisoners out. Once all of the prisoners were moved, everyone would leave, hopefully before the soldiers within would notice a thing. If the operation went perfectly, there would be no fighting at all.

The plan started off fine. The ascent up the mountain was accomplished easily, and the prisoners were all right where they were expected to be, at the top room of the mountain. There were only 12 guards around the dwarves, and the room had only one entry point, a single door that could easily be guarded.

Eragon ordered two archers each to aim at each guard, and the rest to aim at the door just in case. Then he cast a silencing magic on the door to block out any sounds the rescuers made.

It was set up perfectly. Wasting no time, Eragon raised his hand.

He brought it down, at the same time mouthing the word 'fire!'

24 bows fired, and 12 men fell with two arrows each inside of them. Only one archer missed his shot, his arrow hitting the door.

Several dwarves screamed, and many looked up to see there kin above them.

"Go!" Eragon yelled in the silentest way possible.

Within seconds, the ladder was set up, and multiple dozens of dwarves had reluctantly boarded Saphira.

With agonizing slowness, the prisoners were lifted out of their prison. Many bowed to kiss Eragon's feet as they left, but he took no notice, staring at the door with a sword drawn.

When about two-thirds of the thousand-plus dwarves had been rescued, Eragon felt a sort of disturbance in the field of lives he could detect. It was nothing, really, but Eragon was sure that it meant that they had been noticed.

"Hurry it up a little," he said, moving closer to the door and preparing to kill anything that came threw it.

However, several minutes passed and nothing happened. Still not totally secure, he told everyone who had a bow to position themselves around the hole in the top of the mountain and aim after giving them the order to leave behind anyone that could not make it by themselves, including him.

There were only a few dwarves left, no more than 50, when something happened.

There was an explosion that tore through the silent night as the door blew up.


End file.
